That Ship's Not Docking Here
by NotARedhead
Summary: A group of silly short stories. With apologies to many and a great big DiNozzo grin to a few. You know who you are. See author's note in Chapter One. Standard disclaimer. All hail DPB.
1. A Twist of Tate

_Author's Note: This is a group of short pieces that address various relationships on the series. The first one is a re-post of "A Twist of Tate", which is how it all began, but the rest are new. They are all independent pieces. None of them are connected -- they don't lead into or follow each other. There is no timeline. Second chapters may appear for certain pieces, but will be labeled as such. Enjoy!_

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**A Twist of Tate**

"I love you Tony," Kate had said. The two of them were in the empty isolation ward at Bethesda. Tony had come back to take one last look around before he was discharged – one last look at the place where he'd almost died. And Kate had followed him there.

She'd looked at the room with him, and when he sat down on the bed to let out a breath and get his emotions in check, she'd put her hands on his face, looked into his eyes, and told him she loved him. She told him how she'd been attracted to him from the very beginning and had fallen in love with him not long after that. She told him how she'd been frantic with worry when he'd been hurt or in danger and how she had covered that with teasing and sarcastic comments. She told him how she'd stayed and watched over him after Gibbs had ordered him to live; how she'd kept her vigil beside him, hoping to get a chance to talk to him again; how she had begged God to keep him alive long enough for her to tell him what she was telling him. And then she said it again, because life was too short and too precious not to.

"I love you Tony."

Tony stood and looked at her. At his Kate. Kate with the huge expressive eyes and the hopeful, trembling smile. Kate of the nasty comeback and the flirty entendre. Kate, who had stayed with him for a week in isolation even if he didn't remember any of it. Her confession of love and caring swirled around in his head, trying to find a place to land, but it was coming up short. No place in his brain had been ready for this; no part of his consciousness was expecting a declaration of love. He'd hoped that she would be glad he hadn't died, but this was so much more than he could have ever imagined. He couldn't bungle this. He had to choose his words very, very carefully. This would be a moment they would remember forever.

Kate stared up at Tony, oblivious to the time it was taking him to speak. She had just professed her love. She knew it would stun Tony, just a little bit, and she wanted him to take however long it took for him to form his response. She'd used all the good stuff, she knew. It would be hard for him to top it. She had, after all, been practicing for nearly a week – the whole week where he was between consciousness and sleep, between life and death, between health and the plague. She'd had time to think and to plan and to work out what to say. But this was new information for him, and she was okay with his taking a bit of time. In fact, his confusion and bewilderment were endearing and made her love him even more. This would be a wonderful story to tell at the engagement party, she thought. She smiled up at him even more tenderly.

Tony pleaded with the gods for the right words. He wanted to respond to Kate in a way she deserved. He knew she'd probably waited her whole life for this moment, and he didn't want to disappoint her. He was lousy with words. Action was more his style, but this wasn't a time for action. He didn't want to cheapen the moment by doing something impulsive and stupid. She was still staring at him with those misty eyes and that intense smile. He had no idea how long it had been since she'd said what she said, but he knew he had to say something. He took a deep breath; she leaned into him, her hand reaching for his face. He caught her hand in his and looked at her with the most serious, grown-up look he could muster.

"Wow, Kate …" he began, lamely. He couldn't believe he'd just said, "Wow, Kate" after all she'd said. But …well … there it was. Out there. He continued, "I … I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything, Tony," Kate began softly. He took his hand – the one that had hers in it – and moved it up to cover her mouth.

"Yes, Kate," he said. "Yes I do." She waited. He cleared his throat. "I … um … wow. I … I never in a million years thought that you would say something like this. Feel something like this."

She started to speak; he pressed his hand a little more firmly on her mouth.

"I … um ...," he said, smiling sheepishly. Her expression never changed. He decided to just say what he felt.

"I **so** do not feel the same way," he said, with the most apologetic look he had in his repertoire.

You could almost hear the thud.

Kate's eyes registered shock, and it occurred to Tony that he needed to move his hand away from her mouth before she regained her senses and bit him.

"It's not that I don't like you, Kate," Tony said hurriedly, trying to make the whole thing sting less and end quickly. "Or even that I don't love you. I do …" he said, trying to make her understand. "I **do** love you. Like a sister." Ouch. Even _he_ cringed at that. "But I … I mean … a relationship? And the whole 'being in love and having my children' thing? Wanting to share my life and my bed and my future? I know that I flirt and play and make all sorts of silly comments about you and me and sex, but that's … well … I can't even really imagine that. Not even _fathom_ …" Kate cut him off.

"OK, DiNozzo," she said, with a mixture of anger and disbelief, mixed with just enough vitriol to be seriously, seriously dangerous, "I get it. I. Get. It." She pulled her hand from his and clearly wanted to slap him, but whatever self-control she had left was winning that battle.

"Kate … seriously," Tony said, backing away. "I'm flattered, really. And it's not you at all. It's me. It is all totally me." She took a menacing step towards him.

"You're damn right it's you," she spat out. "I sit here and watch you almost die, and then I profess my love – love that I have had buried for two years now … dreams that I've had for two years – and you look at me and say, 'I so do not feel the same way'?" She walked away and then spun around and looked at him, daggers coming from her eyes. "You're _flattered_?" she said, as if he'd called her a name. "You're _flattered_?"

"Kate," he tried, in his most soothing voice. "Katie," he cooed, smiling and oozing charm. He just wanted to get out of the room alive.

But, as it turned out, he was safe on that score. Kate stormed out without so much as a look back. Tony sighed.

Work on Monday was so going to suck.


	2. Sometimes a Tabby is Just a Cat

**Sometimes a Tabby is Just a Cat**

"I'm WHAT?" Abby said, pulling herself up to her full platform-boot-enhanced height and looking Tony nearly in the eye. "I'm WHAT?"

Tony sighed. "Geez, Abbs, you asked the question. Rule 32 – 'don't ask the question if you don't want the answer'."

Abby's eyes narrowed. "There is no Rule 32," she said, suspiciously.

"There is in the DiNozzo rule book," Tony said as he looked to the ceiling and took another breath. Abby was still looking at him when he brought his head down and met her gaze.

"Say it again," she said, "just so that I can be certain I heard you correctly."

"Fine," Tony said. "I said that you were a little too high-maintenance for me." Abby opened her mouth to protest, but Tony cut her off. "Come on, Abby," he said as he began to pace the lab. "You cannot possibly deny that." He looked back at her. While her expression hadn't changed much, her body language had. It was clearly the stance of someone who was considering options and waiting to be given a reason to strike.

Tony began ticking things off on his fingers. "You can't get going in the morning without at least two Caff-Pows, which other people have to buy for you and bring to you; you go ballistic if someone withholds information; you get so pumped at crime scenes that we can't take you any more; God help us if someone forgets your birthday; you constantly pull rank because of your relationship with Gibbs; you've reminded several of us how easy it would be to kill us and leave no forensic evidence," he looked back at Abby. "Do I need to go on?"

Her eyes narrowed again. "Might I remind YOU, Mr. 'I'm-sorry-Abbs-but-you're-a-little-high-maintenance' DiNozzo, that you're not a piece of cake to deal with either? All those women … the practical jokes … the double entendre … the way you treat Timmy … the amount of trouble you get yourself into?" She glared at him.

Tony smiled. "I totally agree with you Abbs," he said. "But we're not talking about me. You were the one who wanted to know why I wouldn't date you. Why I didn't want you. Why your Gothness wasn't a turn-on for me. You were the one who wanted to know why I wasn't following you home on weekends to go clubbing and partying and then dropping into bed together."

She huffed, nearly stamping her foot.

"I love you Abbs," Tony said as he took a step toward her. "You know that, right?"

"A-HA!" she exclaimed, pointing a black-nailed, covered-in-rings finger at him. "I knew it!"

He smiled tolerantly. "I love you like a little sis," he said. "You're the first person I'd call if I was drunk or stranded and needed a ride." She rolled her eyes. "You've got the best evil mind of anyone I know. You're my absolute favorite person at work." She smiled somewhat smugly. "But as a girlfriend?" Tony took her by the shoulders. "Abbs … come on."

"Because I'm too 'high maintenance'," Abby sneered.

"Yes," Tony replied. "You know me, Abbs," he said, with a self-depreciating grin. "I need to be the center of attention. And I can't compete with you on that score."

She looked at him dangerously. "Are you saying," she said slowly, "that I'm an attention grabber too?"

'In for a penny, in for a pound, DiNozzo,' Tony thought. 'Can't back off now.'

"Yes, Abbs, I am." She thought for a moment and then acknowledged it. Tony thought he might be off the hook.

"Anything else?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "Anything else before I go tell Gibbs how you broke my heart and then pass on to Ziva and McGee that I'm your favorite person at work? After which I'll figure out a way to wire you with some sort of interesting computer chip, and then maybe I'll just resurrect that 'gay cowboy' photo of you that Kate and I …" she cut herself off with a gasp. "Oh my gosh!" she exclaimed, slapping her hand over her mouth. "It's true!" She looked up at Tony with wide eyes. "I'm a horrible person."

Abby sank down in one of the lab chairs and put her head in her hands. Tony walked up behind her and gave her a hug.

"You're not horrible," he said. "You're just … Abby."

"And Abby's not your type, right?" she said, with a little bit of a pout. He nodded.

"But there's no one else I'd rather see if I was waking up from a coma," he said, an innocent smile on his face and sincerity fairly oozing out of every pore.

She smiled, somewhat mollified. "But what do I do now?" she asked. "I had it all worked out." She stood and started pacing and bouncing. "We'd be secret lovers for a few months, constantly teasing McGee and avoiding Gibbs and getting Ziva all hot and bothered and then, just as everyone was about ready to totally discover that we were together, I'd show up pregnant and Gibbs would have a Rule 12 meltdown and we'd be all happy and emotional at being able to finally publicly declare our love." She folded her arms and huffed again, her plan spoiled.

"And then I'd get fired and Gibbs would kill me, and McGee would torture me in his next book, and Ziva would torture me in real life. We'd have to move far away from DC, and I'd be unable to support you on a cop's income. You'd have to stop working in the lab because it would be bad for the baby, and I'd never let you go bowling again because … well … bowling, you know?"

"I'd have to quit bowling?" Abby said, incredulously.

"Well … yeah."

She looked at him, shook her head, and turned back to the computer screen. "Well," she said, "that's that then. I could never love a man who didn't like to bowl." She started typing data into a file. Then Abby looked over at Tony, who was smiling just a bit as he watched her. She rolled her eyes. "If you want this done by the end of the day, pretty boy, you'd better leave me alone. I've got stuff to do tonight, and I'm not hanging out late because you can't get your reports in on time. And where's my Caff-Pow?"

"On it, Abbs," Tony said, as he turned to leave the lab.

"Shit list, Tony," Abby called after him.

"Understood," Tony answered with a smile as he got into the elevator.


	3. Gibbs and Abby, Sitting in a

**Gibbs and Abby, Sitting in a …**

"Conference Room, Abby," Gibbs said, as he walked towards the elevator. Abby, who had been standing near Ziva's desk during the last information download, raised her eyebrows and looked at him. "Now!" Gibbs said, with no room for argument.

Abby looked quickly around at the group, shrugged, and followed Gibbs into the elevator. The doors closed and Gibbs reached over to flick the 'emergency stop' switch. The elevator bounced to a stop and the emergency lights cast a light blue glow on the fairly small steel cubicle.

"You … um … wanted to see me, Gibbs?" Abby asked tentatively.

Gibbs stood in the center of the elevator for a moment, surveying the dark-haired woman in the Goth clothing standing almost at the wall of the elevator car. He smiled a half-smile and took a step towards her. "Yes, Abbs," Gibbs said. "I wanted to see you."

He took another step, and Abby began to comprehend what was happening. Her eyebrows went up and her face flushed just a bit, although Gibbs couldn't really see that in the odd blue light. "Oh," Abby said, with just a touch of shock in her voice. Gibbs stood still, and raised an eyebrow.

Abby recovered quickly. "I didn't realize we were going to do this now," she said softly. Gibbs nodded slowly and took another step. They were so close they were nearly touching. He reached out and gently took her face in his hands, leaned towards her, closed his eyes, and kissed her. Kissed Abby.

She was surprised, but not, really. She had, after all, seen it coming. She reacted and began to kiss him back. For all the power in the kiss, it was remarkably chaste. No dueling tongues trying to push their way into the other person's mouth or gasping or kneading of body parts.

Abby reached out and pulled Gibbs in closer. He removed his hands from her hair and wrapped them around her into a tight embrace. The kiss continued. And it was a kiss. A real kiss that left no room for doubt as to what was going on. A Kiss with a capital K.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, but was probably less than that, Gibbs slowly, carefully, pulled back a bit. Abby matched his moves, and they pulled apart, each taking a half-step back to look at the other. Eyes open and lips slightly fuller from the recent impact, they each took a deep breath. And then … simultaneously … they burst out into uproarious laughter.

They were laughing so hard they were sure that people three floors up could hear them. It was the kind of laughter that usually only occurs when you're sitting in church at your great-aunt's funeral, and something funny happens and you're trying so hard not to laugh that it makes you laugh even harder until you have to excuse yourself and go into the bathroom and flush the toilet so that no one can hear you laughing out loud at a volume that would actually raise your great-aunt from the dead if she could hear it over the toilet flushing.

The two of them were leaning against opposite sides of the elevator car by the time the laughter began to subside. They were panting, with tears running down their faces, just barely able to breathe, and releasing small giggles and grunts and snorts as they tried to return to some semblance of normal.

"That … was …" Gibbs was saying as he tried to catch his breath. "That … was …" He looked at Abby and wiped his mouth. "I felt like … a … pedophile."

"Like … kissing …" Abby began, between gasps for air. "Like … kissing … my … father!"

They both dissolved in laughter again, finally sliding down the walls of the elevator until they were sitting on the floor, gasping for air and looking across at one another. Even after they'd finally gotten themselves under control, they still sat there, taking deep cleansing breaths and willing their heart rates to return to normal.

"Can we NEVER do that again?" Abby said to Gibbs when she had fully recovered.

"Not a problem Abbs," Gibbs replied. "That was … Who's idea was that again?"

Abby raised her hand.

"Right," said Gibbs. "And why, again?"

"The betterment of science," Abby said. "Remember there was that thing that I read after the sexual harassment seminar about how all male / female relationships are destined to be sexual and we wanted to test that theory?"

Gibbs nodded. "Right. It's really too bad that the elevator doesn't have cameras." And the laughter began again.

"But full points for form, Gibbs," Abby said between giggles. "If I **was**, you know, interested in you in that way – which I'm so totally not, nothing personal –" Gibbs acknowledged the apology and Abby continued, "we'd be rolling around naked on the floor after that."

Gibbs looked at her, shaking his head. "Thank you for giving me a mental image that may haunt me forever."

"I do what I can," Abby said with a smile as she jumped up and offered a hand to Gibbs. He slowly made his way to his feet, and they both took another deep breath. One more bout of laughter came and went, and they looked at each other again.

"You good?" Gibbs said.

"I'm good," Abby replied.

Gibbs flicked the emergency switch on the elevator and the car began to move again. When they got to Autopsy, they simply hit the button for the bullpen floor and went back upstairs. The rest of the team was sitting there quietly, trying to figure out what was going on between their two missing colleagues.

"I swear, you guys," Tony was saying. "I heard laughter."

"Don't be silly, Tony," Ziva said. "Why would they go into the elevator just so that they could laugh? I think you're hearing things." She started flicking his ear with her finger. "You should really get your hearing checked."

Tony swatted her hand away and looked over at McGee. "Probie – did you hear it?"

"I heard … something," McGee said. "It could have been laughter, but it was really kind of muddy sounding. They'd have had to be laughing pretty loudly and pretty hysterically for it to come across that way." He glanced at the elevator again. "Maybe they were yelling at each other?"

"About what?" Ziva said, with annoyance. "We were discussing the case, and Abby made that comment about the cave, and then Gibbs stormed into the elevator."

At that moment, the elevator doors opened, and Gibbs and Abby walked out. They didn't look angry, although they did both look different, somehow, than they had when they'd gotten in the elevator fifteen minutes before.

"Everything okay, Boss?" Tony asked, with a cautious glance at Gibbs.

"Fine, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, in his 'no nonsense' voice. "Did we find the location of the cave yet?"

DiNozzo, Ziva and McGee all scrambled to their computers to start searching the area maps for the location of the cave where two dead bodies had supposedly been dumped.

"On it, Boss," they all said in unison.

Gibbs turned and looked at Abby. "Thanks for clearing that up, Abs," Gibbs said.

"Not a problem, Bossman," Abby said. And, with a small salute and a curtsy, she turned and headed back to the lab.


	4. Portmanteau

**Portmanteau **

"I know this one," Ziva said emphatically as she pointed her finger at Tony to keep him from telling her. "I know this one." Tony smiled patiently and waited.

"It's that thing on television," Ziva said triumphantly. "Where you can record programs and save them for later and pause live TV and zoom through all the commercials." She smiled victoriously and sat down. "I'm right, aren't I?" she said, smugly.

Tony made a loud, annoying 'buzzing' noise. "No, my Israeli friend, you are not." She looked at him, challenging him to explain.

"What you're thinking of is Tivo, with an 'O' … 'Tee-VOH'," he said, with a self-satisfied nod.

"That's what you said," Ziva said, with a frustrated glance.

"No," Tony said patiently. "I said 'Tiva' – with an "uh" at the end. 'Tee-VAH'."

Ziva sighed. "Fine," she said. "What's that then?"

Tony grinned. "It's you and me, together. 'Tony plus Ziva equals TIVA'."

"What?" Ziva said, with a furrowed brow and a confused expression. "Why?"

"There are people out there who think we belong together," Tony said, circling around Ziva and keeping her just a little bit off-balance as she tried to keep him in sight. "People who think we're a couple. People who think we should be kissing and groping and having wild animal …"

Ziva cut him off. "Enough!" she exclaimed. "I just had lunch." She stood and stopped him from continuing to circle her desk. "Who are these people?" she said, with a touch of annoyance. "And where can I find them?" She began to gear up.

"They're just people," Tony said with a mysterious smile and a hand on her desk drawer to keep her from pulling out her gun. "Out there …" he said, with a general wave to the rest of the world.

She looked at him. "It must be a mistake. It has to mean something else."

At that moment, McGee stepped off the elevator and into the bullpen.

"McGee," Ziva said as she approached him with a smile. He stopped and regarded her cautiously. "What does 'Tiva' mean?" she asked.

"Tiva?" McGee replied. "I don't think I've ever heard that acronym before. Hold on a second." He sat at his computer and began running a search. Tony regarded them both with a grin.

"Face it Zee-vah," Tony said. "People want us together."

"Over my dead body," Ziva said.

Tony made a face. "That might be taking it a bit too far, but I'm sure there's a market out there for …"

"It's the Texas Industrial Vocational Association," McGee said, triumphantly. He pointed to the website.

Ziva patted him on the head and looked back at Tony. "See?" she said. "Nothing about you, nothing about me. It's something in Texas."

"It's also a software company in Charlotte, North Carolina, and the abbreviation for 'total intravenous anesthesia'," McGee continued.

Tony blurted out a laugh. "Total Intravenous Anesthesia – I like that one," he said. "A relationship so boring that it'll put you to sleep."

Ziva smiled in spite of herself. "What else, McGee?" she said.

"Konex-Tiva Limited is an exporter of fruit and vegetable preserves in Bulgaria," McGee offered. Tony and Ziva looked at each other and shook their heads in the negative. "And a voice-message system that's called a 'Tenovis Interactive Voice Application' system." Another 'no' vote.

"There's a film company called 'Tiva Film' in Belgium," McGee continued.

"Tiva Films," Tony said. "Perfect. We can make movies about our growing love and lust for each other, which we must keep hidden due to our dangerous jobs as government agents." Ziva rolled her eyes.

"The company did make a movie once about the seven deadly sins," McGee said, glancing over his shoulder at Tony.

Tony chuckled. "Like I said – lust." Ziva threw a ball of paper at him.

"And there's at least a dozen people with the screen name 'Tiva' on MySpace," McGee said. He looked up at Ziva. "Why do you ask?"

Ziva looked at McGee and then back at Tony. Tony splayed out his hands in a 'be my guest' gesture.

"Tony seems to think that it's an abbreviation for 'Tony plus Ziva'," she said. "If we were a couple, we'd be called Tiva."

McGee nodded, and Ziva looked shocked. "Like when Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez became 'Bennifer'," he said. "Or how Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes are referred to as …"

"'TomKat'," Tony finished.

"'Brangelina'," McGee offered.

"Playing the portmanteaus, I see" Ducky said, as he walked into the bullpen. "Have you seen Jethro?" he asked, looking around the room.

"Port … what?" Tony said.

"Portmanteau," Ducky replied. "It's a word that is formed by merging the sounds and meanings of two different words. One of the more common examples is 'chortle', which is a combination of 'chuckle' and 'snort'."

The three looked at each other, and then at Ducky.

"That's what you were doing, wasn't it?" Ducky asked. "Creating portmanteaus out of names."

They all looked at him, silently.

He looked at Tony and Ziva, who were standing together by Ziva's desk. "You two, for example, would be called 'Zony' … no, that's not right. 'Tiva!' That's what it would be. If you were, as they say, an 'item'." He looked at the mute agents standing before him. "Yes … well," Ducky continued. "Please do tell Jethro that I require his presence in Autopsy at his earliest convenience." He smiled and walked out of the room.

"See?" Tony said, looking at McGee and Ziva. "Tiva."

McGee grabbed his coat and his backpack, clicked off his desk light and turned to leave. "This is where I came in," he said.

Tony looked at Ziva with a leer.

"Don't even think about it, DiNozzo," she said. "I would sleep with Palmer before I'd consider you."

Tony cocked his head to the side.

"Zalmer?" he said. "Or Piva?"

"Actually," Ziva said, "I'd go with Zimmy."

"No," Tony said. "'Zimmy' would be you and Timmy McGee."

"Don't be silly," Ziva said. "McGee and I would be 'McZiva'. Or another 'Tiva'."

"Not possible," Tony replied. "You and I are, and always will be, 'Tiva'."

"No," Gibbs said, as he came around the corner with a cup of coffee. "If you two don't get to work, you are, and always will be, 'fired'." The two agents jumped in surprise.

"You really know how to take the fun out of something, Boss," Tony said as he and Ziva sat down to finish their reports.


	5. That

"**That."**

She did it all the time. All. The. Time. And it took Ducky to explain to him why.

"My dear Jethro," Ducky said as he was pulling projectiles out of a corpse after a particularly messy albeit comical body removal. "She does it because she wants your attention."

"That's ridiculous, Duck," Gibbs said, sitting on the neighboring autopsy table, waiting for the last of the evidence to take to Abby. "I see her all day, every day. We trade information and discuss things all day long. She doesn't need to abuse DiNozzo to get my attention."

"You ask her questions about cases Jethro; you discuss dead bodies and interrogation results. You don't _talk_ to her. You don't single her out for your attention. And that's what she wants. What she, for some reason, seems to crave. I believe she has a crush on you, Jethro."

"A crush?" Gibbs said incredulously and with a touch of annoyance. "Great. I'm still fending off ex-wives. I don't need another …"

His thought was interrupted as Ducky removed the last of the items from the petty officer's chest. "This seems to be …," Ducky considered the item as he prepared to drop it in a specimen jar. "Ah yes," he said, "a decorative hat pin."

"How did a hat pin get into that officer's chest along with –" Gibbs turned to inventory the pile of evidence jars and bags beside him, " – sixteen nails, five fishhooks, two small knives, a couple of dozen tacks, a corkscrew, two – what did you call them?"

"Fish forks," Ducky supplied.

"Fish forks, four ball point pens, an ice pick and three pieces of a lawn mower blade?" Gibbs looked at Ducky with a curious smile as he finished the list.

"I have no idea, Jethro," Ducky said. "Perhaps whoever made the projectile bomb simply took all of the sharp objects he or she could find and dropped them in the PVC tube without really looking to see what they were." He was still holding up the hatpin when Kate and Tony walked into Autopsy.

"What a beautiful hatpin," Kate said with a smile, walking over to Ducky to admire it more closely.

"Yeah, I guess," Tony said. "Although I didn't take you for someone who would take fashion advice from a corpse."

Kate instantly moved to elbow him in the ribs, but Tony countered and she totally missed her mark, stumbling backwards and nearly falling. Tony reached out to catch her. She angrily pulled herself out of his grip.

"You don't need to catch me," she said, crossly. She turned and hit him in the chest with the heel of her hand, with far more force than was necessary. He flinched and took a step back.

"Ow!" Tony exclaimed. "Sorry for trying to be a nice guy."

"'Trying' would be the operative word there," Kate said sarcastically.

Ducky looked at Gibbs, raised his eyebrows, and jerked his head towards the two agents arguing at the side of the room. Gibbs shook his head, looked to the ceiling and sighed.

"Jeez," Tony said, rubbing his chest where Kate had hit him. "Who pooped in your cornflakes this morning?"

"That's disgusting, Tony," Kate said.

"Agent Todd," Gibbs said, in just enough time to keep her from inflicting more injury on Tony. "I'm sure I don't need to remind you that DiNozzo is still recovering from that take-down in interrogation yesterday and could probably do without you beating up on him for – what do you think, Ducky? – a day or two?"

Ducky considered the question as Kate's face flushed pink. Tony looked confused but pleased at the fact that his boss seemed to be coming to his defense.

"A day or two at least, Jethro," Ducky concurred. "Tony did take a couple of sharp hits to the sternum. 'Head-butting' I think they call it, not to mention the slam against the doorknob as young Timothy was trying to go and summon help. That left quite a deep bruise." Gibbs nodded. Tony found himself nodding absently as well. Ducky completed the thought. "Perhaps he'll be ready for more abuse next week sometime."

"What?" Kate said, annoyed at the turn the conversation had taken. She looked around at the three men. Gibbs' and Ducky's expressions were unreadable. Tony's clearly said, 'I have no idea what's going on here'.

"Fine," she continued. "Play your little game. You all deserve each other." She spun around to leave, but her heel caught on one of the Autopsy floor tiles. She started to fall forward, and Tony moved to break her fall once again. Gibbs pulled Tony aside with a shake of the head, and to the surprise of everyone, let Kate fall flat on her face. There was a "huff!" as she hit the floor, her right side taking the brunt of the fall. It was clear that the only thing hurt was her pride, but she spent a moment on the floor anyway, regrouping and trying to figure out what had just happened.

Gibbs bent down to help her up. "See what happens when you won't let DiNozzo be a gentleman?"

She looked at him incredulously. Even Tony was taken aback.

"Um … Boss?" Tony said, not quite sure what to make of the situation.

"Look, Kate," Gibbs said, as he brushed off her shoulder and pushed some hair back in place. "If you want my attention, just ask for it. You don't have to attempt to kill Tony to get it."

Kate blushed fully at that comment and tried to stutter a reply. "I … I don't …"

Ducky walked over and patted her on the shoulder. "You're a classic case, Katelyn, I'm afraid. Quite obvious."

Kate looked at Tony with an accusatory glare. He put his hands up in a gesture of surrender and turned to leave. "I am SO not getting in the middle of this," he said.

"Tony," Gibbs said, while continuing to look at Kate. "What is that thing that Kate keeps asking you – that thing that you hate?" Tony aborted his exit and looked at Gibbs in confusion, shrugging and shaking his head.

"She says a lot of things I hate," Tony said, matter-of-factly. Kate shot him a look, but was visibly nervous at suddenly being the center of attention.

Gibbs looked at Tony like a parent trying to get an important phone message out of a child. "You know," Gibbs prompted. "Since the Voss case. She keeps asking you …"

Tony had a moment of realization. "She keeps asking," he broke into his best 'Kate' imitation, "'what was it like, Tony, kissing a man'?" Tony looked at Kate with a glare, which she returned.

"Right," Gibbs said. "That."

"Yeah," Tony said with a scowl. "I hate that."

"But it's part of the verbal abuse I'm allowed," Kate said with a smug smile.

At that, Gibbs took Kate squarely by the shoulders, pulled her towards him, and kissed her, quite expertly. She gasped in surprise as their lips met, and her eyes flew open. When he finished, Gibbs let go of her shoulders and wiped his bottom lip with his thumb. Kate stared at him in shock and looked as though she was trying to decide whether to slap him or kiss him back. Tony's face was slowly forming into a grin as Ducky did his best not to laugh.

"**That's** what kissing a man is like, Kate," Gibbs said with a barely discernable smile. "Any other questions?"

She shook her head, clearly trying to form a comeback. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came.

"Now lay off DiNozzo for a while, will you?" Gibbs said in a no-nonsense tone as he walked over to the table where the evidence bags were piled. "And find someone else to have a crush on."

With that, Gibbs gathered up the evidence jars and bags and headed for the door. "I'll be in the lab," he said.

Ducky and Tony exchanged an amused look as Kate angrily turned to leave and walked directly into the wall. No one made an attempt to catch her on her way down.


	6. Canonball

**Canonball**

It had been a frustrating day for Timothy McGee. He'd taken yet another round of teasing and ignoring and anger and annoyance from Tony and Ziva over his book. Even Ducky had tossed in a "tsk tsk" or two when he'd gotten to the part about the "kindly old doctor" and how that doctor went off on fantastical stories about past lives and past adventures that had nothing to do with the grisly crimes that the lead detective was trying to solve. Oddly enough, Ducky wasn't upset about the occasionally unflattering characterization of the doctor as being somewhat addled and absent-minded; he was offended by the word "old." Ducky didn't see himself as old, and did not particularly appreciate McGee using that as an adjective.

Of course, the more Tim tried to explain to everyone that his book was a work of **FICTION**, the more they picked at him. By the end of the day, even Tim had to admit that he should have gone a little farther out of character with everyone. Just changing their names and bumping up some of their more obvious characteristics didn't do the trick.

His publisher had loved it, and so did the readers, so he knew he was doing something right. The thing that had started nagging at him, though, was … did they like his writing, or was he simply relating cases that he'd been part of and THAT was what the publisher and readers liked. Maybe he wasn't a novelist after all. Maybe all he was good at was writing down things that had already happened.

Tim sighed as his car pulled up to Abby's apartment. He really needed to talk to someone, and Abby was the only person who wasn't mad at him about the whole _Deep Six_ thing. Well … Gibbs didn't seem upset, but Tim didn't really want to push him and find out. Besides, he didn't think Gibbs would be open to the idea of having Tim show up in his basement to whine about his writing career. And Tim hated bourbon.

Tim knocked on the door, hoping that Abby was still up. She answered on the second knock, perky and smiling, dressed in a black tank top and a pair of red pajama bottoms decorated with black Scottie dogs. Her slippers had small skulls on them, and she was stuffing the last part of a Twinkie in her mouth.

"MfGhees," she said, her mouth full of spongecake. "Whuf ere shue fruing ere?"

"I don't know, Abby," Tim said, sounding as pitiful as he could. "I just needed to talk to someone who didn't think I was a horrible person."

Abby swallowed the last of her Twinkie and regarded McGee with a parental smile. "Timmy," she said, going into the kitchen to put some hot chocolate on the stove, "no one thinks you're a horrible person. A little uncreative, maybe, but not horrible."

McGee stood in the doorway. "Um … Abby?" he said. "Can I come in?"

"Oh!" she said. "Of course, Timmy! I'm sorry."

McGee slouched into the room and dropped a small duffel bag on the floor by the couch.

"What's that?" Abby said, furrowing her brow and cocking her head to the side as she pointed to the bag.

"Change of clothes," McGee said as took off his jacket and flopped on the couch with a sigh.

"Are you … um … planning to stay over?" Abby asked, her eyebrows raised.

"Well, yeah," McGee said. Then he looked up at her anxiously. "I can, can't I? I need you Abbs." He was almost whining.

"Gosh, McGee," Abby began, sitting primly on the ottoman by the couch. "I usually require a few dates, maybe dinner … at least a Caff-Pow. I'm not going to jump into bed just because you had a bad day. I mean, I might do that for Tony, but that's totally different." She regarded him innocently.

McGee looked confused. "Abby …" he said, sitting up and looking at her. "We've already done all of that. We already had the dates and the exchanged gifts and the dinners and … we've already been together."

"'Been together', Timmy?" Abby said, looking as though she didn't understand.

"Slept together!" McGee said. He was obviously agitated. "We've slept together!"

"Timothy McGee!" Abby said, as she jumped up off the ottoman and stepped back to the door. "How dare you imply that we have had sex." She looked as though she was going to slap him.

"But we DID!" McGee exclaimed with frustration. "It's **CANON**."

Abby sighed patiently. "No one ever saw anything, Timmy," she said. "It was all implied."

"Tony teased us about it," McGee said, in an almost pleading tone. "Remember that comment about sleeping in the coffin? And Gibbs has said things."

"But never anything specific," Abby said as she went to the closet to get some extra pillows and blankets. "It was all just smoke and mirrors; jokes about what they thought might have happened. They were teasing."

"But … but … but …" McGee stuttered.

"Think back, McGee," Abby said, depositing the pillows and blankets on the couch and going back into the kitchen to check on the hot chocolate. "Has anyone ever seen us together? Has anyone ever seen us on a date? I don't think anyone even saw you the day that you were ogling my tattoos. All we've done is hug." She poured chocolate into two mugs, plopped in a few marshmallows, and came back to the couch, handing one to McGee. He took it and sat with the mug in his hands, looking bewildered.

Abby continued. "I've been in my underwear in your apartment, but that's certainly not the same thing as having sex. And we've never shown up to work together or left work together."

McGee opened his mouth to speak, but Abby cut him off.

"You've told Tony we had dates or maybe mentioned to Kate that we had plans, but no one ever _saw_ us."

McGee's head was spinning. He didn't understand. Maybe he was in the middle of a story, and couldn't tell reality from fiction. Maybe he was having a weird flashback. Maybe he was dreaming. He spilled a little bit of hot chocolate on himself, just to see if it would burn. It did.

"McGee!" Abby said, jumping up to get a cool towel for the place on his hand that had been hit by the chocolate. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to figure out if I'm having a dream," McGee said, as he leaned back on the couch and allowed Abby to put the cool towel first on his hand, then on his forehead.

"Nope, Timmy," Abby said, leaving the washcloth on his forehead and giving him a quick kiss on the temple. "You're here. You're just confused."

"But, I remember …"

"Do you, McGee? Do you remember things actually happening, or do you just remember the memory?"

With that, McGee closed his eyes and willed himself to be back in his apartment, with his things and without Abby.

"You're a **_writer_**, Tim," Abby continued. "You know about things like misdirection and implication and innuendo. That's all this is. That's all we are."

And suddenly, McGee knew she was right. He wasn't remembering them being together, he was remembering the memory. And then, suddenly, a thousand ideas began to fill his head. A thousand plots for stories. He had to leave … to go home … to write them down.

"Thank you, Abby," McGee said, as he quickly handed her his hot chocolate and tossed the damp towel on the coffee table. He grabbed his duffel, put on his jacket, kissed Abby on the cheek and headed out the door.

Abby looked around her now empty apartment and smiled.

"That was way too easy," she said to the small skeleton doll on her bookshelf. "Way too easy."


	7. Portmanteau, Part Two

_Author's Note: I thought this one needed a bit of a tag, so here it is. Enjoy. Thanks to Tweeter for pointing out the anomalies._

* * *

**Portmanteau, Part Two**

"I asked who these people were, Tony," Ziva said after Gibbs had headed down to Autopsy. "These people who want us together."

Tony looked up from the pile of paperwork he was slowly working his way through and sighed. He knew he shouldn't have said anything. This was the fifth time she'd asked.

"Just let it go, Ziva," he said with a tired smile. "I was only kidding around."

"No," Ziva insisted. "There has to be basis for it somewhere. Words like 'Tiva' don't just come out of nowhere."

"It was a portmanteau," Tony said. "Or at least, that's what Ducky called it." Tony was tired – tired of paperwork, tired of this conversation, tired of Ziva. "I was just teasing."

"No," Ziva said again. "You didn't start this. Who did?"

She was staring at him with the piercing, penetrating stare that could burn a hole in your retina if you let her stare at you long enough. It was the look that had taken down a dozen or more hardened criminals in interrogation and the look that made the guys in Security never really question her if the metal detectors beeped.

"Fine," Tony said, realizing that he'd never get any more work done if he didn't get this handled. "It was all of the women in the evidence garage." Ziva's eyebrows went up in surprise. "It started when that blurry version of the video that was taken during the undercover op made it onto YouTube. Remember?"

She nodded, warily.

"Even though it was only there for a weekend, it apparently got a LOT of play. Rumor has it that the whole 'please stock the fridge with Red Bull' sequence was a favorite."

Ziva looked a bit bewildered. Tony continued.

"Fast forward to the case with the one man and two fiancées. Remember the day that we each had a box of evidence to go through and we were matching underwear for underwear?" Ziva nodded. "Apparently, a couple of the 'baggie bunnies' were watching us and decided that the stuff in the hotel room wasn't being faked and that we had 'chemistry'. They've been teasing me about it ever since."

Ziva was speechless. She was trying to remember what they'd said and how they'd said it. And she started going mentally through other instances when she and Tony would have been observed by other people, trying to figure out if there were any other times that people might have misunderstood. Tony watched her with amusement. He could actually see her mind working. It wasn't often that Ziva was at a lack for words, even if she didn't always use all the right ones.

"Ziva?" Tony said, trying to break her concentration. "Zeeee-vaaaaaah," he sing-songed. She looked up. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, Tony," she said, still obviously thinking. "But I'm beginning to understand how people might have gotten the impression that we'd hooked on."

"Hooked up," Tony corrected.

"Yes … whatever," Ziva said absently. Suddenly, she remembered the photos that they had shown her at the Embassy – the photos of Tony arriving at and leaving her house. Even those, innocent as they were, were incriminating. This had to stop.

"Why aren't they teasing me?" Ziva asked. Tony cocked his head at her, confused. "About our 'chemistry'," she continued. "Why aren't they teasing me?"

"They're afraid of you," Tony replied, matter-of-factly.

Ziva smiled. Tony felt a chill in the room and considered calling the evidence garage to warn them.

"Look, Ziva," Tony said, trying to smooth things over. "It's not that big of a deal. I won't ever mention it again. I promise."

"Not good enough," Ziva said, as she rose to her feet and headed to the elevator. "I have other fish on the fire … other irons in the sea," she said. Tony opened his mouth to correct her and then decided that she was close enough. "I'd prefer that none of them hear any second-hand gossip and think that we're together."

"Would it be that bad?" Tony said with a fake-hurt look and an amused pout.

"Yes, Tony, it would."

And for once, Tony had to agree with her. Rule 12 aside, Tony really didn't like office relationships. Paula would have been okay – she was in a different office, different sector. They could have seen each other without anyone knowing, and without it affecting cases. But Ziva was another story. Tony could imagine a few rolls in the hay … a few nights of wine and passion and perhaps a little experimentation, but it wouldn't last, and that would be the dangerous part.

If he ended it, the phrase "a woman scorned" would take on a whole new meaning. Ziva would make Lt. Pam Kim look like Snow White. And if Ziva ended it, he'd have to listen to her explaining to everyone in the office why, over and over again, in excruciating detail. He'd probably have to start using an assumed name and only date people who lived outside a 20-mile radius. Yeah … a fling with Ziva was out of the question.

Ziva was gone for over an hour. Gibbs came back upstairs twice looking for her, and Tony covered.

Finally, she came striding out of the elevator, a satisfied look on her face. She dropped her gear and sat back in front of her computer.

"Well?" Tony said, eyebrows raised and waiting for a report.

Ziva looked up and smiled. "They don't think we're together any more."

"O-kay …" Tony said slowly. "And …"

"And they're still afraid of me."


	8. Forget Paris

**Forget Paris **

"Our minds are wonderful devices," the speaker was saying. "They protect us from extreme pain and suffering, sometimes by blocking out traumatic events in our lives. Then, when and only when our minds know that we are ready to cope with the memories and feelings, does it bring them to our attention. Many times this happens in the form of a flashback, or in a more gentle and manageable term, an involuntary reflection."

"They're 'involuntary reflections' Jethro," Jenn was whispering to him. "Involuntary. I told you."

Gibbs looked at her with a bored, half-asleep expression. He yawned.

The two of them had been sent to a seminar for agency employees who were experiencing signs of minor post-traumatic stress syndrome. They had been nominated for the seminar by Tony, Ziva, McGee, Abby, Ducky, Franks, Fornell, Cynthia, Director Morrow, and seventeen other people who all had, at various times, witnessed one or the other of them zoning out in the middle of a conversation or trading 'meaningful looks' during some situation that was obviously reminding them of something else. While it was possible that those 'involuntary reflections' had provided helpful information in the past – would Jenn have been rescued from her kidnapping if Jethro had not involuntarily reflected that she'd once left her coat on the plane? – everyone was, frankly, tired of them. So amazingly, incredibly, unbelievably tired of them.

And, truth be told, they were starting to bug Gibbs too. Jenn didn't seem to mind as much.

Tony could tell when Gibbs was having a flashback because he'd get that glazed-over look, and the team would patiently wait while Gibbs remembered some past rendezvous that would provide them with necessary information. Or not. You could never tell.

Jenn was more subtle. She usually had her flashbacks … um, I mean involuntary reflections … when she was alone in her office. So it was less obtrusive. But still.

"The very fact that flashbacks seem to be uncontrollable and unpredictable makes stopping flashback memories seemingly just another pain to bear," the speaker was saying. "When we begin to understand why we have flashbacks and are not paralyzed by them, we can move further along the path to healing."

"The path to healing?" Gibbs said, looking at Jenn. He rolled his eyes.

"Can I answer a question for you, Special Agent … Gibbs?" the speaker said as she consulted her seating chart.

He sat up a bit straighter, realizing that everyone was looking at him.

"So you're saying," he said, trying to act as though he was actually interested, "that people with flashbacks relive things that have happened as if it's happening now."

"Oh no," the instructor said, enthusiastically. "Flashbacks do not have to be episodic – that is, the re-experienced memories aren't always images, sights or sounds. There is a strong emotional component to memory as well, and flashbacks can occur as a rush of feeling, emotions, and sensations that are a part of re-experiencing past events!"

Jenn looked at Gibbs. "Feelings, emotions and sensations, Jethro," she said with amusement. "Your favorite things."

"But what causes them?" another member of the audience asked. Gibbs was relieved to have the spotlight off him, and he sneered a bit at Jenn, who was chuckling silently.

"When it occurs involuntarily, the flashback may be due to a disorder such as post-traumatic stress disorder, such as in cases of remembering a war or other trauma," the speaker said. "Or there is also Hallucinogen Persisting Perception Disorder – that's related to the use of psychedelic drugs."

Jenn raised her hand. "What about flashbacks that happen **_voluntarily_**?" Jenn asked.

There was a pause as everyone in the room turned to look at her.

"Um … those would be called memories," one of the other group members said, in a somewhat condescending manner. The instructor nodded.

Jenn sunk a bit farther down in her seat. Gibbs chuckled.

"How do you cure them, doctor?" one of the participants asked.

The seminar leader sighed. "Well," she said, "it's really more about management than cure. These types of involuntary episodes will always be with you. But there are many types of emotional freedom techniques you can use …"

Gibbs snorted and shook his head. "Emotional freedom techniques," he said to himself as the instructor continued to drone on about various meditation exercises, hypnotism, medications and other methods to keep flashbacks under check. Gibbs glanced over at Jenn, who looked equally desperate to get out of the room. He quietly and covertly reached into his pocket and pushed a button on his phone. A few seconds later, it rang.

"Sorry," Gibbs said, apologetically, as the instructor stopped mid-sentence and pointed up to the **TURN ALL CELL PHONES OFF** sign at the front of the room.

"Gibbs," he said into the phone. Then, "We'll be right there."

"New case, Jenn," Gibbs said, as he quickly got up and headed for the door.

"I'm so sorry," Jenn said to the seminar leader, with a contrite look.

Seconds later they were both in the hall, leaning against the wall in thankful relief.

"That was good timing," Jenn said with a smile to Gibbs.

"Thanks," Tony said, as he joined the group.

"Wait," Jenn said, a grin forming on her face as she looked at Tony, then at Gibbs. "You set that up?"

Gibbs smiled. "I always have an escape plan, Jenn. You know that."

As if on cue, Gibbs and Jenn cocked her heads to the side just a bit. Their faces got that far away look as they started to remember another time, another place, and another escape plan. Tony reached up and smacked them each on the back of the head. They immediately came back to the present, both of them looking at Tony angrily.

"What the hell?" Gibbs said, ready to smack Tony in return.

Tony smiled. "Emotional freedom technique," he said.

There was a moment of silence as Gibbs and Jenn looked at each other and rubbed the back of their heads where they'd been hit. Then, together, they opened the door and quietly went back into the seminar.


End file.
